Sunday, November 8, 1992

nonsense

1108/1992

Sometimes I wish I could start all over

I find myself wishing on a four-leaf clover

Mostly things never go my way

There is always tomorrow, it's a new day

The end comes too fast, life is so short

Some treat it like it was a joke or a sport

Only out to have their fun

Why does the kid in the corner hold a gun?

What is the need is it for power?

Is this the time or even the hour?

The day, the hour surely draws near

But he has a gun and nothing but fear

If he had a chance to start new and begin

You know it like I, he'd do it again. . .